Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 63: The Letter

Chapter 63: The Letter

A soldier weary from the travel suddenly chuckled, followed by snickers from the others.

Agilus cursed under his breath. ’Damn it. Is he making fun of me? Are they mocking me?’

...

Meanwhile, inside Lara’s bedroom, Alaric lay rigidly on the bed, his sharp eyes flickering toward the door.

The silence stretched, pressing down on him like an iron weight. It had been a long time, but he still had not returned. Judging at the angle of the sunlight that crept through the crack in the wooden walls, it was already late afternoon.

A storm of scenarios churned in his mind, each more grotesque than the last. Had he encountered bandits? Or worse—been ambushed by a pack of wolves? Mauled by the tiger that had been trailing them the other day? Silently swallowed by a python, his body crushed before he could even scream?

No. That was absurd. Kane was a soldier—a skilled one. Agile, cunning. He had a wolf as a pet, for heaven’s sake.

Still, the worry gnawed at him.

Alaric’s gaze fell to the wooden tray beside him, now empty save for a few fruit peels. Lara had brought them earlier, and despite himself, he had found the taste satisfying—a small comfort that made him feel better.

He reached into the pocket of his bloodstained pants, retrieving a small golden pillbox. The scent of dried blood and sweat clung to the fabric, making his stomach churn. He was disgusted, but he’d contend with the disgust more than ’him’ undressing that part of his garment.

The apothecary he had saved two weeks ago had pressed the pillbox into his hand with trembling fingers. "These will heal even fatal wounds," the old man had whispered. The ingredients—processed umbilical cord, rare herbs, finely ground red ginseng—bound together with honey—were precious ingredients unlike anything he had encountered.

He swallowed a pill, draining the last of the water in the clay jug.

If Kane did not return by nightfall... would he go after him?

No. He was in no condition to do so.

And yet, why was he worrying about him? Was it merely because the man had saved him?

Or was it something else?

The lingering scent in the room—subtle and refreshing wildflowers—was unmistakably ’his.’ Alaric inhaled deeply, letting it drown out the sharp, metallic tang of blood and the foul stench of urine. The jar sat on the floor below him, its lid failing to contain the odor entirely. His stomach turned. He hoped his men would find him first before Kane saw or smelled his shame.

The minutes stretched, each one longer than the last. Waiting was always an arduous task.

When have I ever waited for someone? He thought bitterly. It was always others who waited for me.

Alaric entertained himself by studying the room around him. His restless eyes wandered.

The oil lamp on the bedside table was beautifully crafted, its clay frame adorned with delicate flower-shaped holes. Last night, when the candle was lit, he saw the shadows dance along the walls, like blossoms blooming in the dim glow.

A noise snapped him from his thoughts.

Footsteps. Faint at first but growing louder.

Alaric’s fingers curled around the hilt of his sword.

Could it be the bandits who lured his companions away? Had they found the bridge?

More voices followed—several men.

Then, one he recognized.

Agilus.

Relief crashed over him like a wave. Then—his voice. Kane.

He was safe. He had found the others.

Alaric exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders.

The door swung open.

Agilus stepped inside, his face battered, a dark bruise swelling over his cheekbone. Blood crusted his torn sleeves, and his right arm was tightly bound in a bandage.

"Ari!"

His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes bright despite his injuries. He strode toward the bed——and his foot struck the jar.

It tipped.

A sickening slosh.

The pungent stench of urine flooded the room.

"Damn it, Agilus!" Alaric recoiled, face burning.

"Ugh—" Agilus grimaced, covering his nose.

"Ari, I didn’t see it! Sorry!"

The door creaked open again.

Lara stepped inside.

She took one breath—then gagged.

"What in the—" She staggered back, eyes widening in horror.

Alaric clenched his jaw, his face darkening to a furious crimson.

Agilus felt a chill shot down his spine.

Alaric’s glare could have frozen fire.

"I’ll... clean it," Agilus muttered, retreating hastily.

Then, he hesitated, realizing that the floor was nothing but packed dirt. How the hell am I supposed to clean this?

Kane’s voice cut through the moment, smooth and commanding.

"Just throw out the rest outside in the vegetable garden and rinse the jar."

Agilus bristled. "How dare you... What? The vegetable garden?" His eyes widened. But before he could express his disgust, Lara was already gone, eager to escape the foul air.

Alaric ground his teeth.

"Agilus. Stop blabbering and do what he said.

"Grumbling under his breath, Agilus grabbed the jar and hurried outside.

In the doorway, he nearly collided with Kane, who was carrying a fresh jug of water.

Alaric shot him a sheepish look. "Uh. Sorry about the smell." A blush crept up his face.

Kane smirked. "It was Blabbermouth’s fault for being careless."

Kane stepped inside, pouring a generous amount of water onto the floor. The odor lessened, replaced by the faint, clean scent of wet earth. He lit the bedside candle, its soft glow releasing a sweet, calming aroma into the air.

"You found them," Alaric murmured.

Kane nodded. "Yes. One of your soldiers is gravely injured and still unconscious. Agilus told me that he is your secret guard. I sutured his wound. He should recover faster."

Alaric stilled.

Yesterday—outside the cave—the fight had been brutal. The bandits had come in waves. Two had attacked him from behind. His guard had taken down one—But the other had landed a blow meant for him, which his guard blocked.

Alaric exhaled slowly. He suffered a setback during this time. The letter should be delivered no matter what, otherwise all their pains would be in vain.

Lara seemed to read his thoughts; her eyes, which seemed to sparkle, met his.

"All your men are injured," she said bluntly. "They need two or three days to recover."

Alaric frowned. I don’t have that kind of time."I will deliver the letter myself."